


Knock 'Em Dead

by infectedscrew



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics)
Genre: Dick is a Mother Hen, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Minor Injuries, mild violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-07
Updated: 2016-05-07
Packaged: 2018-06-06 21:18:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6770239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/infectedscrew/pseuds/infectedscrew
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Damian is injured on patrol but, in true Damian fashion, doesn’t let anyone know.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Knock 'Em Dead

There are always bad nights in Gotham but there are different kinds of bad. Some are just too long, fully of a bunch of petty crime and boring surveillance work. Some have a new crime lord popping up and ruining everything with their latest bid for a “Who is the Most Insane” Award. Some just have an up tick in family drama that ends with more scuffles between vigilantes than criminals. All are common and fairly easy to deal with. But some of those nights turn into patented Bad Nights.

That was the kind of night Damian Wayne, current Robin, had. It was a Bad Night through and through. Between Scarecrow wrecking havoc in the parks, an arms deal between Falcone and Black Mask all the way down to an explosion of violence down in The Narrows, there was no way Damian was going to make it back to the Cave unscathed.

“Robin, come back to Gotham Park,” Batman’s voice filters through the comm. system. It’s a hard growl, meaning things had not gotten any better with Dr. Crane.

Damian grit his teeth, a small grunt escaping him. He’d quickly thrown up his arms just as the order came through to avoid taking a punch to the face.

A hyped-thug’s fist slammed into his forearms. He didn’t wait for Damian to react, throwing at more punches and trying to back the smaller form up.

There was no way he was going to gain ground on Robin but he was damned if he was going to try. Something was running through the man’s veins and it was pushing him forward, throwing out as many attacks as he could and barely registering when he was hit in return. It reminded Damian of the venom that ran in his friend, Collin’s blood. If a new strain of it was out on the streets and getting into the hands of, already crazed, adults then the masks were going to be in for some big trouble.

“I’m in the Narrows,” Damian replied, ducking another hit and pulling up hard and fast to sink his elbow into the man’s stomach.

The man gasped out, doubling over. It was enough of a chance for Damian to ram his knee into the man’s nose. The blood that erupted was a little satisfying to Damian’s frayed nerves but he didn’t have too long to enjoy it when a wiry woman threw herself at him.

“You’re needed in the Park,” came Dick’s terse answer. “Hurry.” The comm. cut off, effectively ending the conversation. Whatever Batman said was law, even if Damian was stuck in an alley with an ever increasing body count.

A frustrated sound ripped out of Damian’s throat. He dodged the woman’s hands, dipping out of her range. She was babbling at him, incoherent words that stumbled over each other. It would have been unnerving if it wasn’t so uncommon in Gotham. Despite her reedy frame, the woman was fast and full of sharp movements. Her hand snapped out, nails catching Damian’s cheek.

Damian wrenched himself back, face stinging.

“Little birdy, little birdy, I’m gonna eat you up,” the woman cooed at him.

“Shut up,” Damian snapped, already preparing for his next attack.

The woman shook her head, dancing away from his powerful kicks as she spoke, “Nope, you’re being rude. The shadow’s gonna get ya. Don’t hit!” She lifted her hand and wagged a finger at him; a parent admonishing a child–it made Damian’s blood boil.

Before he could aim another attack at the woman, two things happened in rapid concession. Something very cold pierced his ankle and a very big, very solid something else crashed into his back. Damian cried out as he fell forward. He just managed to catch himself, but his shoulders protested the landing. It was a soreness that would stay with him until tomorrow.

“Told ya so!” The woman cackled, already sprinting out of the alley.

There was a crash as whatever hit Damian made their escape as well.

Damian whipped around to find the new attacker. On his knees, turning every which way in the alley, he could find nothing. Nothing other than the already incapacitated bodies and mounds of trash that were a staple of every city alley.

“R,” it’s Red Robin this time, he sounds tired. Must have been a bad night for him too.

“I am coming!” Damian snapped, pulling himself to his feet. His ankle is burning now and barely taking his weight. He dug a strip of ties out of his belt. Normally they were used for the particularly violent criminals that didn’t want to stay zip-tied. Tonight the black leather would stabilize his ankle until he could treat himself back in the cave.

“Just a quick check in,” Tim sighed heavily. “Are you done in the Narrows? B still needs help in the Park.”

Damian fought the urge to growl into the comm. He used the wall for support to make it back to his bike. “I already said I’m on my way,” he retorted as he swung himself on his bike and kicked it to life.

“Fine. Red out.”

A small flash of guilt hit Damian. In the recent weeks, he and Red Robin had made the tentative steps toward peace. On Bad Nights a lot of that progress disappeared in insults and smoke. Speeding through the dark streets of Gotham’s slums, Damian had to put that guilt aside for later.

—

By the time Damian made it to the Gotham Parks–sprawling nature that dominated Central Gotham–the fight with Scarecrow had wound down. All that was left were his henchmen and thugs, the ones that stuck around even after their boss had been soundly defeated. That was one thing he could compliment the villains for, they had an amazing ability to find an incredibly loyal work force.

It didn’t take long to make his way to Batman who was stuck in a small group of thugs. He had a mask covering the lower half of his face which meant Crane had tried the age-old Fear Toxin. Even from the distance between them, Damian could see that Dick’s jaw was tight and his body was moving stiffly.

t hadn’t been a clean victory then.

“Oracle,” Damian started curtly. “Is there still toxin?”

“No,” Babs answered, voice slightly distorted. “B just hasn’t had time to take his respirator off.”

Damian gave a small nod, more to himself than to Babs. He shifted his weight, testing the ankle. It protested but didn’t give, a good sign.

Not giving himself another second, Damian threw himself into the fight. There was no hesitation as he easily fell into Dick’s flow. It had taken time but he had learned to time his moves with Dick’s and how to pair their attacks to be the most effective. He was slowly building the same with the other masks but there was no one else he was more comfortable with.

In short order, the remaining men were taken down. Damian set to work tying them up as Dick contacted the GCPD.

“The sirens are coming,” Dick commented, sounding far less tense than he did earlier. “I’ll meet you back at the Cave.”

Very briefly, Dick’s hand squeezed Damian’s shoulder before he took off.

Damian glanced over the bodies. He stepped over to them back to his ride. Adrenaline was going to wear off soon and the aches that came with a Bad Night were going to pour through his system. He needed to return home before that happened.

—

Morning came far too fast and far too early for Damian. No matter how he tried to shake it, he had always been an early riser. His training with the League ensured that, even with devastatingly late nights, he would be up with the sun. Not for the first time, Damian cursed his training and dragged himself out of bed.

Instantly his ankle gave and he dropped back against the blankets with a groan.

“Pathetic,” he told himself, shoving himself back to his feet. A quick glare to his ankle and he moved to dress for the day.

When he’d returned to the Cave, Dick had been absorbed in a conversation with Tim and Babs. From what he could gather, something new had appeared in Crane’s compound–a something that screamed of Ivy’s involvement. Crane had been returned to custody but the toxin was still out there.

Dick had only managed to give him a quick greeting before Tim pointed out the venom running through the Narrows as well. The three launched back into speculation.

Damian didn’t want to talk at the time, he’d give his report later. He’d stumbled to the showers, dumping his uniform on the floor for Alfred to deal with. His back and shoulders ached, his face stung and his ankle was a shrieking pinpoint.

After the shower, Damian had wrapped his ankle tight and hobbled off to bed. It had been a Bad Night and all he wanted was to sleep. He’d theorize on Gotham’s latest terrible event later.

Now dressed in loose, comfortable clothes, Damian wound his way downstairs to find Alfred already preparing breakfast for him and, surprisingly, Dick waiting with a cup of coffee.

“Grayson, you are up early,” Damian commented, dropping heavily into the breakfast nook. He nodded his silent thanks to Alfred as orange juice and a plate of fluffy pancakes were set in front of him.

Dick offered him a tired smile. “Couldn’t sleep,” he replied, sipping his coffee almost reverently.

Damian paused, fork part way to his mouth. He narrowed his eyes at the man across from him.

“Don’t worry, Lil’ D,” Dick said, waving him off. “Eat, tell me about your night. It looked bad.”

Almost angrily, Damian shoved food into his mouth. It was too early and he was too tired to give a report but he knew Dick would press until he said something. Once he’d swallowed down enough of his breakfast, he told Dick about his night. He carefully left out anything about his ankle and the mysterious assailant. Dick looked too tired to deal with anything right now.

After breakfast, Dick dragged Damian down into the cave to go over last night’s reports. They were all over the place. Every mask in the system had dealt with something bad.

“Cass is lucky she’s still in Hong Kong,” Dick joked, looking over Steph’s report. She’d gotten stuck with taking down Black Mask with Jason. From the looks of it, both had taken a couple bad hits.

“Would you consider that lucky?” Damian asked, moving away from the computer to stretch and work through some moves.

“Probably not. Although she can get her hands on some really freaking good dim sum,” Dick pointed out, turning the chair to watch Damian. “I’m a little jealous.”

“Better than a face full of Fear Toxin.” Damian straightened his legs, bending at the waist to touch his fingers to the floor. A small touch to his ankle made him wince and out of the corner of his eye he saw Dick’s expression sharpen. “Most likely tastes better too.”

Dick pushed himself out of his chair, “was that a joke, Dami?”

Damian stood straight again and shrugged. He turned his back to Dick and started through a series of arm stretches and punches.

Silence dropped over them until Damian moved onto his leg exercises. He knew it was a mistake the moment he had to put weight on his ankle again. It was easy enough to turn the small stumble into a roll but it shouldn’t have happened in the first place. He didn’t want to let a stupid injury get to him but it was really throwing off his near perfect kicks.

Behind him, he heard Dick pull in a breath and stand. “Damian,” he started slowly, “did anything happen last night?”

“The usual,” he answered in a stiff voice, standing tall again. He risked a glance to Dick and knew the man didn’t believe him in the slightest.

Dick crossed his arms but didn’t push. Not until Damian snapped out a kick that made his ankle pop and yanked a gasp out of his throat. Then Dick was moving forward, supporting his weight as his expression shifted into full concerned mode.

“I am fine, Grayson,” Damian protested, trying to free himself from Dick’s patient hold.

“Hardly. You’ve been favoring your right leg all morning,” Dick stated, voice firm. Ignoring Damian’s complaints, he ushered Damian to the medical table. “Up.”

Begrudgingly, Damian lifted himself onto the table and laid his leg out straight. He crossed his arms, back stiff, and glowered over Dick’s head to the rest of the cave at large.

Dick pushed the leg of Damian’s sweats up. He frowned when he saw the bandage, sending an almost hurt look the ten year old’s way. He spoke as he started to unwrap the bandage, “You didn’t say you were injured.”

“It wasn’t relevant information.”

Dick shook his head, sighing through his nose. “You and Tim, I swear…”

“What about Drake?” Damian demanded, frowning.

The question wouldn’t receive an answer outside of a sharp intake of air. Dick’s eyes went wide as he took in the sight of the swollen, red and purple ankle. It was an angry looking injury.

“Dami, you should have told me about this!” Dick fretted as he quickly worked to make sure none of the bones were displaced. With nothing out of place, he worked on rewrapping the poor joint but this time in a much more solid brace. He handed Damian some antibiotics to take, just in case the small cut had anything within.

Damian took the treatment in silence, jaw flexing as he made sure he didn’t let Dick know how much it hurt. The man was prone to over-reacting after all.

“We’re going upstairs,” Dick announced, scooping Damian up into his arms.

“I can walk!” Damian spluttered, fighting Dick’s hold.

Dick looked down at him, eyebrow raised and expression pointed. “No, you can’t.”

Damian opened his mouth to reply then quickly closed it. He’d pushed the injury too far. If he let it go anymore he knew he’d be benched from Robin for longer than he wanted. Not giving Dick the satisfaction of agreeing, he crossed his arms and glared.

“Pout all you want but you should have told me you were injured. I wouldn’t have asked for your help with Crane,” Dick said, close to lecture mode as he climbed back up the stairs to the living room.

“You needed help. I was not going to say no,” Damian answered as if that justified everything.

Dick shook his head, settling Damian on the couch. He tugged the blanket off the back and drapped it over the small child.

“I do not need to be babied,” Damian grumbled pushing the blanket off.

Dick caught his wrist, stopping him. “For today, you do. We’re keeping you off your feet for tonight,” he said, tone brokering no argument or debate. “We’re going to sit right here on this couch, eat ludicrous amounts of pizza and watching a bunch of really stupid movies.”

The blanket was placed back over his legs and a TV remote shoved into his hand. When Damian didn’t move, Dick reached down to press the power button. Not moving the remote from Damian’s hand, he flipped the channel to some ridiculous cartoon.

“Alfred!” Dick called, moving to the door, “we’re gonna need a bunch of snacks! Oh, and an ice pack!”

Damian shook his head, exasperated.

“It’s an impromptu night off,” Dick told him over his shoulder. “You’re stuck with me, Lil’ D. The rest of the gang can take care of the city tonight.”

—

Five hours, three pizzas, countless sodas and snacks and too many horrible movies later and Damian realized he hadn’t wanted to spend his day any other way.


End file.
